


The garden of Eden

by moonscaps



Category: SK8 the Infinity (Anime)
Genre: Adam and Eve references, Adam calling Langa "darling" someone call the ambulance, Alternate Universe - Phantom of the Opera Fusion, Anal Fingering, Biting, Blindfolds, But OH BOY Adam sure knows how to dance, But make it dancing, Dry Humping, First Time Blow Jobs, For Me, Hickeys, I do not own edenshipping but they own me, Langa is a professional dancer, Loss of Virginity, M/M, NSFW, Nipple Play, Orgasm, Warning!! mention of abuse, edenshipping - Freeform, i said what i said, it's getting spicy, kind of?, tragic backstory ahead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:07:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29288049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonscaps/pseuds/moonscaps
Summary: The music twirled like a thread around them.And like destinies tied with a thread - the Matador of Love pulled him in. Perhaps we were all born to crave?
Relationships: EDEN - Relationship, Hasegawa Langa/Shindo Ainosuke | Adam, edenshipping
Comments: 24
Kudos: 74





	1. The Matador's muse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who are you in my broken light?  
> Here alone, your touch  
> yet nothing known.

>   
>  My insolent heart,  
>  it's audacious.  
>  It dives into your words,  
>  feels your presence,  
>  makes love to you. 
> 
> Oh, I want it to make love to you.  
>  Shamelessly. 
> 
> My insolent heart  
>  knows no boundaries.  
> 

━━━━━━━━

_"Hasegawa Langa, known best under his performer's name SNOW, has won the Canadian National Dance Championships again, making it his fifth time now! Having started dancing at the age of two, he is one of the youngest and yet most successful and multitalented dancers worldwide. What exactly is his secret to such victory? We might just find out soon as we've invited him to be our guest of today's broadcast."_

Outside, the trees which line the streets were clothed a sweet pink. The blossom opens as if each of the flowers was a wide spread book, only willing to let the passerby's read it this exact time of the season. Langa leaned against his palm, watching the view from inside the car while squinting his soft blues just a little shut as they drove through aquatic sunshine. He never liked interviews. The many expectant eyes on him, audiences on tenterhooks as they would wait for him to answer the questions he was asked. Unfortunately, it came with the occupation of being a professional dancer on his level of success. Up to when he was ten years old there wasn't too many. But with his performances becoming known internationally it all changed. In fact, Langa didn't enjoy too much interaction at all. But dancing, it was different. It was a way of expressing himself without words, which he had never been very good at to begin with. When Langa flowed in dance, that was really the only way his body truly knew how to speak.

"We're almost there now. Look, remember that neighborhood?" His father pointed towards a small, mellow house at the end of the street. It's the one where his aunt used to live before she remarried. Despite the majority of his mother's side of the family living in Okinawa, they didn't come here as much as they used to when he was younger. The rest of the world sees a bush of no importance in the garden of the house, but years ago it was his headquarters every summer when they'd come to visit. If he hadn't been discovered, a lot might have been different. Sometimes, Langa thinks about that. Sometimes, he wonders if he had more friends then too. And then again, he didn't mind being left alone at the same time. "Mhm, I remember." He replied with some delay, much too occupied with his own thoughts as his parents chatted happily. And then, like he had done an uncountable amount of times today, Langa reached for his phone before tapping the small mail icon on his screen.

_SNOW! I have seen you dance!_

_Your movements flow with such a dazzling grace it took my breath away!  
Your being, it moves with such purposeful clarity! I can see you are like me._

_Come to Okinawa,  
I want you to dance for me._

_I have already assured you will have a place to stay.  
I will make sure that you are cared for thoroughly._

_I cannot wait to meet you,  
Hasegawa Langa. _

_\- The Matador of Love  
_

As his thumb slipped towards the attachments, it contained not only the location of his accommodation with a receipt that would neither show the buyer's name nor the total sum of money paid, but various scripts and audios of compositions, the place of practice, practice schedules and - a summary of the history of Adam and Eve, "The garden of Eden", which the script went by as well. Langa assumed it would be the theme of the performance, figuring simply from past experiences. He hadn't exchanged a word with The Matador of Love. He was left without a phone number, without a reply to his own. And yet, he had found himself drawn in as warmth to the scintillating, flickering tongues of fire. So Langa found himself researching for days. Who was the Matador? From myths to rumors, he had found everything. _The Matador's play reaching the biggest number of audience once again, Matador's performers unable to give hints on his identity, "The Matador without a face - Matador without a face._ That one had stood out to Langa the most. How was that even possible? His heartbeat echoed in his ears, harder the longer Langa stared holes into the mail he had received two weeks ago, until the sound was almost intolerable and he quickly pressed the lock-button on the side of his phone, causing the screen to turn black. He had decided to accept the Matador's invitation.

"It should be around here?" It was his mother who made the dancer look up. The city was of such wide avenues from here, with small places to eat and sit. Large buildings marked the place as city centre. Expensive clothing stores, men in suits who must have just gotten off work. "And you're sure the hotel is around here? I wouldn't want to know just how much you pay to stay here for one night." Oliver muttered, clearly focused on finding a building that looked reasonable, more realistic. Suddenly unbuckling, Langa spoke up. "Drop me off here. I can find it." He tried to sound as confident about that as possible, knowing his parents wouldn't let their son wander the foreign streets all by himself so happily. But to his surprise, his father nodded, heaving a sigh. "It must be easier to find it by foot I imagine. You know we'll answer immediately if you call. And, your aunts place isn't all that far either." That's where the two of them would be staying for the time being. As long as he kept his phone with him, for once that seemed reassurance enough to them. Stopping the car at a nearby street, Langa pushed the door open and grabbed his suitcase which carried fairly little considering he would be staying for quite some time. "Please, tell us when you got to the hotel safely." His mother let him off with a soft smile, but Langa knew, she'd worry to death until they received a sort of life sign nevertheless. 

━━━━━━━━

The city roared with people. It had a heart, a rhythm and a beat, just like the many Langa had been to, it is a unique one you'd find nowhere else. Monoliths of concrete surrounded him. While he would always feel so big on stage, it were places like these that made him feel unapologetically small. Vehicles rushed along tangled lines here and there. It was a breathtaking, marvelous, almost frightening dream Langa avoided by looking down at his Google Maps screen. He was guided past building and shop, again and again until he stood right where the blue line ended. Holding onto his suitcase tightly to ensure it was still there, or perhaps to hold onto any solid ground in this crowded street, Langa cast his eyes off the screen- 

Beneath his feet, the pavement felt soft as he stared with wide eyes. He'd gasped inaudibly as if the breath had balled into a lump that was now stuck in his throat. The door hinges were engraved with elegant designs. The floor, tiled in fine marble, caused every step to echo. Rainbow colors composed by the chandelier above him danced across the lobby as Langa walked in steps which had _astonishment_ written all over them in initials. Exquisite paintings decorated the big hall which left space for the lungs to inhale fully. It was a place few could afford even if they'd spend years saving. Lucky for Langa, it caused the building to be far less crowded than the streets outside. The woman at the desk seemed to know exactly who he was the moment he extended the confirmation of purchase. His room - a suite on the uppermost floor, where small and large buildings collided into a mixture of geometrical colours. 

By the time the sun set, Langa had somehow managed to settle in, messaged his parents (who were beyond relieved and had also arrived at his aunt's safely) and emptied his suitcase. Despite his profession covering him financially with ease, they had never picked a place as luxurious as this to stay at. Time of practice: 8 o'clock. The looking glass which he stared into was encircled by a frame of thread-like strands of gold. He pulled down his tightly seated, black top which he always wore to practice. The boy's dance wear was classy, nothing too flashy unless it fit the theme of performance. The color of his top fit that of his bottoms, both complimenting every feature of his body perfectly. Usually, Langa liked to tame his hair by keeping it up in a small bun since, at some point during dancing, the front strands would be nothing but a nuisance to his sight. However, today for some reason, he kept it open with merely a hair tie put around his wrist in case he'd change his mind.Suddenly, Langa rose a hand to his chest. The mirror reflected the twitching of his lips, an expression of speechlessness as he noticed his heart beat so fast one could fool him his chest would burst. But it was so much unlike the feeling he felt minutes before performing in front of an audience. Different; so different yet he couldn't quite grasp it.

When Langa exited the hotel, the sky was a black tranquility, married to the poetry of the milky glow which the stars radiated. To Langa, the night came as some reward of sorts, when throughout the day he didn't get to be alone for even a short moment. Recently, it had been happening a lot. The night was a comfort he wouldn't trade for anything, even if today for once, he was willing to interact with new faces as the blanket of black settled over Okinawa. There was an incertainty he felt as he walked the streets, which he decided to push away until it got to him anyway. He didn't know the people he would work with, didn't know the face nor voice of the man who had offered him to take part. Though subconsciously, Langa has been painting a mental picture of The Matador - someone tall, mysterious and very likely intimidating at first. Or, was that just what _he_ had wanted him to look like? What if, he was simply being fooled? That one was a fear Langa had ignored up until now. Because, he wanted it to be real. He wanted _him_ to be real.

> Softly, deftly,  
>  music shall caress you.  
>  Hear it, feel it,  
>  Secretly possess you.

The chirping of the birds at night was idled away as he stepped into the theatre. While the silence was a comfort to him all those years, it nagged at him now, in a place as quiet as this, where even the blossoming of a bud could most likely be heard. "It must have been a trick after all," Langa muttered, having really no one but himself to talk to. Nevertheless, he clasped his bag tightly, moving further into the building that looked abandoned, lifeless at night. Finally, he had reached its heart - the performing stage, watched by thousands of empty seats surrounding it.

At first sight, it resembled a lot of the theaters he had danced in before - specifically one in Europe no longer than a year ago. But a tense atmosphere wouldn't stop bothering him as he walked down the stairs leading towards the large, dimly lit stage. And while he tried to line up the words to tell to his parents, now that it had turned out someone must have thought this a funny joke, he noticed the stage covered in rosy petals and the bouquet of red roses placed neatly in the corner of the raised platform. Their heavenly fragrance invited Langa to carefully pick them up, calm and steady hands arranging them. Each one a delicate bloom, someone must have put them here very recently. An attempt to confess someone their love, but left here out of spite for being rejected - that was Langa's first thought for some reason. Not that he had so much bad experience with relationships that he'd immediately associate it with something this negative, but he wasn't necessarily this experienced with it at all. It just never crossed his mind, to even date anyone he had met. "Hn?" Whilst putting the flowers in place, he noticed something odd sticking out of the bouquet.

_Dearest SNOW,_

_I hope you like roses?  
They are my favorites to say the least. _

_Here we can practice our play to our heart's content.  
Without anyone distracting us. _

_\- The Matador of Love_

A pair of turquoise looked up from the letter, soon noticing the little recorder to his right, Langa approached It quietly. _We,_ it still rung in his ears, turning his head to scan the audience's seats once more. He was the only one here, unless he had gone completely insane now, so unlike his usually calm and collected self. On guard, Langa kneeled to retrieve the script he had printed out, from his bag. He read about it a lot, celebrities being threatened, blackmailed, the scandals you could find all over social media. But, he wasn't any close to being as famous as they were - didn't intend to be. It didn't talk about any disappearance case when he looked up The Matador of Love, either. And so, Langa found himself playing along the Matador's game, pressing the play-button on top of the silver recorder.

> **Track one: https://open.spotify.com/track/5Sw5mVmu1SrIe3V79XXfkA?si=Nxbvtp4IRK2DjCwoTQzJEQ**

Music filled the air without effort, Langa immediately recognizing the tune that filled every hole of the room. Track one: _The garden of Eden_ , titled after the name of the play. It was the place inhabited by the very first humans - Adam and Eve, the dance telling of the story of the two meeting one another, the grand opening of the play. Apart of a few instructions and turning points, Langa wasn't told how the song should preferably be performed. That hadn't happened before since the directors he had been hired by and working with usually seemed to have a certain way they wanted the performance to go. So for the first time, Langa had thought of his own interpretation of the dance, trying to relate it to the melody as closely as possible.

The music was like an external heartbeat, vibrating sweetly. It was as if the slowly changing tone touched different parts of him. It made him tingle, listening to it on stage for the first time. _The garden of Eden_ however, was composed as a dance for two - Adam and Eve, where Langa assumed he would be playing the role of Adam. And yet, he once again found himself dancing to the tones by himself.

The lights twinkled with every step he took. Langa could eat and drink the music all the same, yet never get enough of it. On stage, his personality burst through in the most vibrant colors, dancing like a ticking clock that moved backward and brought him into a distant, long passed time. He wondered what it smelled like, the garden of Eden. Similar to the heady fragrance of the rose petals? Or, more like the cherry blossoms he had seen in Okinawa today? Right now, he was in a completely different world.

> Deeply cored within,  
>  and if it’s wrong to wait so long -  
>  Desire must be sin.

Langa stopped as abruptly as the music did. Footsteps echoed sharply behind him as he fought the urge to turn around. Langa could tell even without proof to his eyes, something about the person. Were they short, hectic and clicking heels it would be a woman, probably a secretary, while erratic steps would be a child playing around. There came another step, this time slower as if the maker was trying to be quiet, as if to sneak up on him. "Don't turn around." A militia of chills marched down Langa's spine as the man's voice echoed through the stage, filling every hole of the theatre. "Not yet, SNOW. Be patient." He could tell the smirk on the stranger's face even without seeing and somehow, such a strange feeling rushed through his body that didn't dare budge.

The man's crimson eyes shone behind his mask, mirroring the excitement of his heart seeing the boy oblige without if's or but's. And then, delicious shivers began marching down Langa's smaller frame, like a bolt of sudden electricity, when his sight was wrapped in a layer of darkness. “Ah, such a good boy, keeping still.” Swiftly, and yet with such great amount of care, did the Matador blindfold the dancer, before once more, the recorder started playing _The garden of Eden._

The pressure of a warm hand from behind, placed on his hip caused Langa to flinch slightly. He didn't mean to, he wouldn't have - it was the sight stolen by the cloth which made him grow much more sensitive to unexpected touches. But, oddly enough, he wasn't afraid. "I loved watching you perform, SNOW. What you made of my music has made my heart beat faster! But - _The garden of Eden_ cannot be performed alone." The hair on Langa’s arms stood to attention, a militia of chills wandering down his body when the Matador's second hand slid against his, fingertips brushing against his softly before taking a gentle hold of it. "The melody is passionate. As is the bond between Adam and Eve, despite them having only just met~! You’ll portray Eve perfectly." ADAM's larger hand held Langa's hips just a fraction tighter and as he led them forward, it was like liquid adrenaline injected into the boy's blood stream little by little. It became louder and louder, the tremendous beating of his heart. Their movements were perfectly in sync, flowing with both grace and passion as if they had danced together a million times before. "One who moves as delicately yet expressively as you, it's almost as if we were destined to meet here." The Matador hummed and - 

as the solo violin started playing, it was Langa who entwined his finger's with the man, pulling himself closer against his chest after a fierce turn to the side. His head tilted to one side, a grin playing on his lips, quickly imitated by his taller dance partner. "Ah, SNOW~! I knew I've done the right thing, picking you for this play!" As if hit by a rush of adrenaline himself, he whisked them into the middle of the performance stage. "Slightly smaller steps- aah, just like that!" Langa's lips twitched upwards, hardly gone unnoticed by The Matador after having witnessed his smile only moments ago for the very first time. Langa wasn’t one to take advice as offensive, as calling him untalented, knowing there were some who did. To dance meant to improve until the very end of his lifetime. The fragrance of the rose pedals dancing underneath them was the same sweet scent as The Matador's, he could tell, being this close against the taller, their bodies occasionally brushing up against one another. “I want you to feel the dance, Langa, to feel me. And you are doing so well.” The deep voice muttered, catching the dancer off-guard by calling him by his birth name. His warmth seeped into his being - like they'd belong together. Adam’s hand shifted towards the boy’s lower back and settled right there, almost causing Langa to fall out of rhythm. _Thump, thump._ Again, as if against his will, as if he wasn’t trying to calm it, his heart began picking up speed once more. All until the hand around his frame kissed him goodbye, when the songs final note had been played. All the while he had found himself hoping, that this dance between Adam and Eve would never end. 

Night is the only time they can be with each other, to catch a whiff of the sweet, subtle scent Langa would begin to crave, to dance with the shadow once more. For, too often it's the dangerous that is most alluring to the human's mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and thank you so much for reading this first chapter!! It may not have involved too explicitly mature content YET but this serves as a warning that there definitely WILL be adult content in the following chapters!


	2. Think of me fondly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Often, Langa's thoughts were just blank. Lately, they twisted and turned, suffocating him with their whispers.  
> Whispers _about_ him. Whispers _from_ him. Whispers _to_ him.
> 
> He invades his mind, ignites the passion like a candle easily lit by a finger's softest touch.
> 
> He, who is so easily lit by this finger's softest touch.

>   
>  Think of me,  
>  think of me fondly  
>  when we've said goodbye.  
>  Remember me, once in a while  
>  please promise me you'll try.  
>  \- Andrew Lloyd Webber (The Phantom of the Opera) 

~~\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------~~ ~~\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------~~

Nighttime graced the sky with its ambient hues. In his monochrome musings, where the melody of the play's grand opening unbent over and over again, the moon was a deep silver that danced pirouettes, but for no applause. Slowly but surely, the blackness of the night seeped through the joints of the carpet's rich pattern and snaked out from the dark corners of the top floor suite. The windows replaced an entire set of walls, more than an ordinary hotel would ever care to spend their finances on. It's as if the whole world was watching, as long as the curtains remained drawn back like this. "My little Langa, you can't be nervous can you?" A menacing chuckle echoed from behind him as strong arms engulfed his smaller frame and with one gentle pull, their bodies touched. Anyone would be intimidated. How couldn't they be? How couldn't _he_ be? But Langa wasn't. "I'm not." He replied with a tone slightly louder than usual, because it was his reverberating heartbeat the boy was up against. "I want to know more, about you." Langa continued. Never in his life had he been intrigued by someone like that, lured in like a moth to the flame. Delicate fingers worked at his hand which was placed over Adam's, entwining them like casual lovers would. His teeth graced his tongue, wondering whether he was pestering him with all those questions and shut up instead. "Do you trust me, Langa-kun?" The Matador smirked, breath tickling the boy's ear. When Adam's hands let go of his, Langa's remained where they'd rested for a moment longer before his body twitched lightly against the taller man's. Adam's fingers fumbled with the dancer's shirt, slowly pulling at what part of it was tugged into his pants, yet refraining from going beyond that. "Mn," with a sense of urgency, Langa's fingers wrapped around Adam's once more. But they didn't with the intention to pull him away but instead, he added pressure to the touch. With a laugh, Adam's hand found access to beneath the Canadian's shirt. One touch, and the intoxication was instant. Whatever Adam wanted to do, they would do. And nobody could stop them. There was just his scent, that sent Langa into a heady trance that he refused to back out of.

"Have you been touched this way before, Langa-kun?" Adam's fingertips lined the boy's tense stomach, his shirt pulled up little by little as the bigger hand continued its path upwards. The Matador's hands spoke of a kind of precision that could only be brought by the love and focus of many years. "Hn... I haven't." His eyes closed, Langa would trust the man blindly. He had led him through a dance before. He hadn't taken advantage of the situation. Blindfolded, he could have taken his life right there, done all sorts of crime that would have ended badly for the dancer. But, the only difference, he hadn't. "I haven't... not by a woman, not by a man." He whispered, openly presenting secrets he had kept from interviewers up until now. They had asked him private information like it before, but Langa had refused to answer them - respectfully. But he told Adam, he would tell Adam anything. "Then, if I touched you here..." Beneath the talk was the gaze of observant eyes, watching Langa closely from behind. A soft hum vibrated in Adam's throat, recalling the melody of their song. Perky and with the flush of a soft pink, Adam slowly began to circle Langa's left nipple between his first and second knuckle. _"A- Adam...!"_ He tried to warn the man, but his voice escaped more like a gasp than it had meant to be. "Mmn? It does feel good, doesn't it?" Adam drawled, the sweet melody of his voice didn't help at all. _It felt so good._ Langa's eyes remained close, his long lashes fluttering against soft cheekbones, pressed up against the Matador's broad chest. With one hand Adam was flicking the tip of his index finger over the left nipple, moving his other fingers so that he was pinching and rolling the hardening nipple between them, altering between circling the sensitive area with just the right amount of pressure, _oh so slowly. Their bodies both hot, Langa could feel the throbbing in Adam's pants against him - a clear giveaway to how Adam felt about him._

Another whimper escaped Langa's lips. Despite his breath remaining relatively even, it hitched from time to time while being stimulated so willingly. His body writhed and shivered lightly, never having felt this way before. Needy to be touched in all the places, but feeling already overstimulated at the same time. Langa hadn't ever had the time to explore his own body properly, or, had never deemed it as important to do so. But still before that eerie realization hit the boy, a hand slowly came around his chin, gently cupping it to the side. 

"Langa." The deep voice cooed his name as if it were the very last syllables to a beautiful lullaby, as if Adam had noticed that insecurity which prevented him from letting go of the few remaining threads that kept him in place - yet were such a nuisance all the same. "My Eve." He starts peppering kisses down the back of his neck. In the split second before the touch of his lips, every nerve in Langa's brain was electrified. It was the anticipation of being together, in ways that were more than just words, ways that are completely tangible. Ocean blues lowered to the man's perfectly shaped lips. He hadn't kissed anyone before. Except for the innocent pecks on the cheek which he had received from girls in kindergarten, but he decided that they didn't count.

"You want me to kiss you," comes the teasing whisper right next to Langa's ear, making him shudder. He was so easy to read, as crystalline eyes daren't pull away from Adam's lips. Langa was angry they didn't budge, resisting their own bodies' command. _Take them off, take them off now._ Then his pale lips parted, "I want you to kiss me." Langa trembled, the words as if drawn out by a foreign force - but it was all him, what use was there to denying it? "Please... Adam..." His chest felt strangely tight, nerves tingling restlessly. Adam groaned softly, the way Langa begged for it only fueled his arousal further. "Everything about you," He prolonged slowly as Langa managed to turn his body around in the man's embrace. For a moment he wasn't sure where to put his arms, awkwardly dangling at the sides, but before he could spend much thought on it they'd come to nestle against Adam's chest. 

"You're beautiful, my Eve." Langa was jerked from his thoughts by a thumb brushing over his lips before Adam closed the last bit of distance between them. With that, every pretence falls, every facade crumbled away. Adam's insistent mouth soon parted Langa's trembling lips, not just his, but even Adam's unsteady. Their tongues brushed against each other, surprisingly, Langa wasn't overwhelmed at all but instead, let completely go and leaned into the kiss more. Adam's lips tasted faintly of cigarettes and Langa disliked smoking, but he didn't mind that. Both just aching, craving for more. "Mmmn, darling..." Adam's voice vibrated impatiently, his hand engulfing Langa's throat lightly. They parted only to lock eyes momentarily, breathing fast, their heart rates even faster, only for Langa to be the one diving into a second kiss. "Mmn...!" He moaned into the touch, their bodies falling into another to feel the natural rhythm as they moved. "Hh...Ada-...mnn...!" The Matador's knee rubbed up against the dancer's lower region, places not anyone has touched him at before. But before he could stumble backwards, Adam's larger hand groped his ass, massaging the cheek slowly, getting a nice feel of its tight, round shape. "Hmm, Langa-kun, you're turned on~" A sinister chuckle followed his words. "Mn?!" Langa's blush seared through his cheeks and for a moment he thought, his face was on fire, the color almost resembling that of a bad sunburn he would get so easily every time he was exposed to the sun for too long. 

With a laugh Adam lifted him right off his feet as if he were merely as heavy as a feather. Like he had done many times during dance practice before. He carried them over towards the king size bed before carefully placing him there. The heat rose from Langa's stomach to his chest, reaching out to wrap his arms around Adam's neck who crawled on top of the smaller male. "Langa, my darling Eve. Will you let me make love to you?" He asked. The Matador always asked. It was just the other night he had placed his hand around the boy's hips even lower than usual, but he hadn't done so without a _Do you mind if I touch here?_

"Langa." Adam whispers his name. He could feel and hear the desperation in his voice, to use his hands, to hear him give consent, to surrender completely. Langa breathes in deep, in and out, "I ...will." Within a split second, he crashed his lips against his. "Good boy, mn." The side of Adam's thighs are pressed against his. "Let me help you out of these. They must be getting uncomfortable I imagine." The Matador cooed before he hooked his fingers into the front of the boy's pants - they were practically glued to his panting form by now, but certainly not revealing enough for the man's tastes yet. Easily, he pulled them down to his ankles and off completely, being presented with a pair of puissant, well-fleshed thighs. The dancing had shaped Langa's form so beautifully. 

"Everything about you, it truly does leave me breathless, my Eve, my angel." The tent in his briefs didn't go unnoticed, and so Adam smirked, "I do things to you too, don't I?" He leaned in closer, Langa's color infused cheeks burning. "Like you do to me." The Matador's palm closed around the clothed erection, his fingers lining the bulge. "Ha-... Adam...y-..." Langa arched his back, thrusting his hips up against the warmth of the man's hand that moved about his throbbing length rhythmically. "Ssh, what do you want me to do?" It was obvious, it _had_ to be. Adam could have spared him of the humiliation, of having to say it. "T-take them off, please. They're... hah... in the way. Please..." His breath rises in invisible puffs. He was _hard._ He wanted to be touched more. More, more. Adam's right hand drops to Langa's fleshy thigh, reprieving him while his rubies searched blue apatites. Langa's skin appears even more pale in the light of milky crescent, the glow flooding in through the unguarded window, defining the features of his lower half, showing his leaking erection. Adam groaned at the sight before him. "You would look just wonderful in lace right now. Perhaps, next time," he chuckled, causing Langa's face to flush an even deeper shade of pink at the mental image of it. "I... wouldn't know what to say." _Lace._ As a professional dancer he had worn all kinds of exotic outfits, but to wear lace for an occasion such as this one, the thought of it made him weak in the knees. If the Matador said he would look stunning in it then, maybe he would. Adam noticed his mixed reaction, which wasn't disgust towards the idea, more anything else but that. 

"Mm... let me tend to you now, my Langa. You've been so good." Adam's hands stroke Langa's thighs delicately, planted kisses along his inner side while his fangs grazed along the skin lightly, but to his surprise, as he nudges them to the sides, the dancer bites his lip and parts them easily. The precum on his tip flowed down the side of his shaft, embarrassed as the Canadian felt every drip of the fluids escape his pulsating cock, so fully aware Adam watched it up close. Suddenly, the feeling of something wet and warm scooped up the liquids. "Ha...aah!?" Langa bucked his hips upward, writhing on the bed as Adam licked the head, tasting his sweet nectar. "E-eve..." The Matador took him into his hot mouth and started to suck gently, always keeping in mind that it was Langa's first time after all. Breathlessly, Langa squirms under his dance partner's mouth, moaning out loud. _Good... it felt amazing... Adam felt amazing. He sensed it, this immense magnetic field between them._ "Don't hold back, darling...hmn," he clamped his mouth over Langa more, taking him deeper, to where the tip invaded his throat. And when the boy pulled his hair, the man's mouth stretched wider, fighting between sucking and grinning. 

Adam licks a wet line up Langa's cock, kissing the tip softly before pulling off with a wet pop. He is experienced. One could simply tell by the way he moved, handled the unenlightened dancer with such a confidence. The next instant, the two of them were on an eye level again. Langa's chest rises heavily, a thin streak of saliva running down the corner of his lip. "Are you... enjoying this, my Langa?" Adam was panting, they both were. "Mm..." Shiny blues look back at the male, filled with excitement, fascination, determination. Body trembling, he nodded. "That's good," the deeper voice whispered. 

Adam extended a finger to scoop up the excess of saliva from the boy's lips, brushing it along his bottom lip. "Open up." he requested. Langa's eyes widened slightly, but nevertheless, he obliged without question. Adam pushed two of his fingers past his lips, catching his wet muscle in between. "Will you suck on them, my Eve? Make them wet." Langa stared up at him before leaning in. Sparks ran through his body as Adam's index finger pushed against his tongue. They tasted slightly of his precum, salty, a little bitter too. The Matador shivered as his mouth closed around two of his fingers and he began sucking on it, rasping along the very tip of them with his tongue, coating them in thick saliva, drooling all over their base. "Hmnn...Laanga..." Adam purred, pushing them a little deeper - long, they were so much longer than his. Adam's hands were so much bigger than his. "Mhg..." The boy coughed softly, then wriggled his tongue between the two fingers, sucking a little harder. "G-good boy," he praised him again as Langa began kissing along the glazed fingers after he had withdrawn them, more or less with quite the heavy heart. 

"I will have to loosen you up first, my Eve. I don't want you to hurt more than you must." The Matador whispered softly, always in attempt to give him a sense of security. But Langa couldn't think straight. Langa couldn't think at all, as if every touch of Adam's fingers short circuited his mind in the best possible way. He had dedicated his life to dancing, to expressing himself only through the way his body moved along the stage. However, this moonlit night he had realized his body could speak in so much more than just that one language - with Adam it spoke of passion, of an unapologetic craving and curiosity. Adam gets on his knees at the edge of the bed, spreading the boy's legs and pushing them higher to expose his tight virgin hole. The wet fingers rubbed at his entrance, taking his sweet time with someone so delicate. To him, Langa was a fragile angel, like porcelain, too precious to be careless with. It drove Adam absolutely insane. 

"Adam... ah!" Langa bucks forward as the man's hand meets his ass cheek, spanking him once. Langa is wavering, body tense and shaking after the confounding impact. His eyes, previously open to watch Adam, were screwed shut in pleasure now. The taller leaned over, ghosting his lips against Langa's earlobe. "You liked that." He whispered, more a statement than it could ever be a question. The dancer's reaction was his confirmation. Langa's cheeks are a glowing red, his head tilted to the side, buried into the pillows underneath, but Adam grasps his hand firmly under the boy's chin and pulls it up, their faces only inches apart. "Tu es parfait," he continued, voice low and husky, humming in pure satisfaction. "My Eve, my darling. Notre danse, la mienne et la vôtre, it starts here...~" 

With that, Adam slowly prised is hole open with his wet fingers, invading the little space. "Haa-...aah...mnh!" Langa let out a breathy whine, the sound making it right to Adam's gut, to his own throbbing member still trapped in his own pair of tight pants. He pressed the back of his fingers slightly harder into the places that made Langa gasp loudest. He starts out cautiously, mapping the boy out with his one finger. "It... h-hur...haa, A-adam..." Langa's legs straddled the Matador's back. They felt shaky, but in the back of his mind, he always remembered that Adam was right there with him. Adam knew what he was doing. 

"I know, darling. It will go." He says, trying to keep his voice steady at least. At first, the pressure by his entrance radiated pain in a way that could shatter his brain any moment now. Then, Adam curls up his finger, hitting just the right spot. It pulls out a moan, reveling in the way the dancer moves against his thrusting finger, searching for friction. Everything was so hot, wet, but perfect. Langa changed his breathing with every thrust, purring under the Matador's hand who softly nudged the moist entrance with a second finger. "There, much better..." Adam leaned forward, sinking his fangs into the soft skin of the boy's neck, not pulling back until he had left a love mark, peppering his shoulder with flaming hot, hungry kisses. "Mmn... Langaa... you're so irresistible, like that." Originally, Adam intended to make Langa beg for more, as he always had done with his previous subs, but then, Langa looked at him with those huge, sparkling blue eyes and he dove deeper instantly, his knuckles completely buried in between the tightness of Langa's walls. They take him in so well, so willingly. 

Adam presses his tongue neatly to Langa's growing erection, "Hnn, don't be embarrassed to come, my angel. I will swallow it, if you let me. I would not want a bit of you to go to waste." His voice vibrated against the tip, sounding almost reasonably delirious himself. "Please... let me have a taste of you, my Eve." Langa was flustered, pushing the man's head down needily while panting. The bubbling in his stomach becomes a wild typhoon at the foreign caress to his sensitive parts. Adam's lips ride his shaft, every slick lick of his tongue speaking of a mutual craving, pulling out his two fingers completely just to slowly push them back inside. "Aah...hhn!" Langa's heart races abnormally fast, grasping Adam's hair as he rocks his hips. "A-adam, Adam...!" He cried out the man's name over and over again, feeling the tip of his nose against his skin, his balls pressed to the Matador's chin - he took him wholly, every inch. "Haa, aaah! I think I-... mnnh!!" His toes dig the earth that was the expensive, cream colored mattress as a feeling impossible to be described overcame him. His balls tightened as Adam held his fragile form down against the bed, ejaculating into his throat. 

_Panting, holding onto him... kissing him..._

_It tasted faintly,_

_of cigarettes and cum..._

* * *

_"!?"_ Hot droplets flow down Langa's pale face as he sits to regain his breath. His legs barely held up his weight and there was a rising feeling of nausea in his stomach which he clenched tightly. For a moment he sat there, in silence, immobile, static as his mind conjures the rhythmic waves of his heart. _He was dreaming._ Suddenly it hit him. The material is warm beneath his fingers which seemed as if they would dig holes into the mattress at any moment now. _It wasn't real, it wasn't real, it wasn't real._ The sun floods the suite, the golden rays soaking into his porcelain skin. _Was he upset it wasn't real?_ But no warmth that the morning sun emits could compare to the heat between his legs. Langa carefully moved the bedsheets aside, noticing the dark stain in his briefs. Deep, heavy breathes sound through the room and he could hear the cacophonous thrumming rhythm in his ear. It had felt so real, everything about it. The taste of his lips, the hypnotizing touch of his fingers. When he touched him, down there. His voice, his scarlet eyes. It was odd, because Langa had never seen his face and still the crystallized image of Adam in his dream felt so natural. The orgasm in his sleep, it was the best he had ever experienced. _He came. Adam made him cum. The fantasy of Adam pleasing him, touching him and fingering him, had made him cum._

It had been one and a half weeks since Langa had come to Okinawa with his parents. For the past 10 days now, the dancer would visit the national theatre every night. His schedule had originally been set to grant him a day off every two days, but instead he returned to practice even on his free days. The Matador's identity remained a mystery to the boy, but he insisted to be called Adam. _Adam. In his dream, he had moaned his name out loud so many times._ A still slightly perplexed Langa exited the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist. The curtains add an orange glow to the morning light which peeked through thin gaps in the shape of golden threads as he walked over to turn on the TV, hoping to get his mind off things. Despite the height of the top floor making the suite inaccessible to prying eyes, it made his privacy seem even more less invaded with the curtains closed, automatically making him feel much more comfortable. Immediately after he had grabbed the remote, his blue hues lowered towards the bouquet on the table. The red, velvet roses dance and sway in sync with the gentle breeze. The carmine petals fluttered like butterfly wings as they kissed the air which entered through the half opened window. It wasn't the same bouquet he had received on his very first day, but a new one.

###  𝐑𝐲𝐮𝐤𝐲𝐮 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 琉球放送株式会社, 𝐑𝐲ū𝐤𝐲ū 𝐇ō𝐬ō 𝐊𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐤𝐢-𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐚, 𝐑𝐁𝐂, on TV 

### 

_"Mr. Shindo-san, as one of Okinawa's youngest politicians, everyone has been wondering what has inspired you to take on such a responsibility?" Shindo Ainosuke stood there in aristocratic cutting lines of a fine tailor he must have paid a fortune to. It made him look just like the figure of power he is, because who could question the businessman in his navy blue suit, looking so self assured and composed. Langa couldn't take his eyes off the screen, off the man with his scarlet eyes. "Why would one want to pursue the field of politics." The young man repeated confidently, always wearing that public smile. "I am sure everyone has their individual reasons. As for me, it was my father who pursued it before me. He used to tell me, when I was still a child, that my grandfather had done so too. But while I was born into a politician's family, and while I do want to continue where my father had left off, it is of my own personal interest as well. To see a change across our country, across the world." Shindo's ambition was admirable. Sometimes, it felt as if the two of them shared something. They both had started to get into business at a very young age. Langa remembered the man's face vaguely. He had been to one of his performances before. Did the young politician enjoy the art of dancing?_

>   
>  _(3) New messages:_  
>  "Hey Langa!! You up yet? චᆽච"  
>  "We're meeting up in 30 minutes right?"  
>  "Does that still stand?"  
> 

Reki sounded as cheerful as always. He was like that ball of sunshine you'd notice from a mile away, shining in its own brilliance. And, probably a morning person too. Langa looked back up at the television screen, his heart strangely sinking when he saw the interview had been interrupted by commercials. _Yeah._ He replied to the text shortly. As much as he wasn't so talkative in real life, he wasn't in text messages either. When his parents and him used to visit Okinawa while he was still a child, the two of them would occasionally play together. And about a week ago, their paths had crossed again. Reki spoke Japanese with Langa, Langa spoke Japanese with Reki. That had never been an issue since he grew up bilingual. And Reki's English was funny whenever he tried showing off his skills from school. Langa was actually relieved to have someone nearby that he could talk to, or ask for directions to the next fast food chain after practice. He'd go alone though. Because to Reki, or so the redhead thought at least, Langa was attending some simple rehearsal for a man named _Yusuke Sato_ \- he had come up with that one.

Langa had never been claustrophobic, but in the midst of the almighty swell of humanity that was the people going about their day, he sometimes could feel the panic rise in his chest, scared to be trampled underfoot. Luckily, as long as garrulous Reki was with him, Langa felt only half as small. "I told you- mmph, this place would have the best Tako-yaki you'll eat in your life!" Reki munched happily on his fried batter ball as they walked the streets. "Mm, well I haven't had the chance to try all the popular Tako-yaki spots in Okinawa yet." Langa replied calmly as he watched his friend devour a third one while he was only just getting started with his second. His mother was an excellent cook when it came to Japanese dishes so in his opinion, these didn't even get close to what he considered the _best Tako-yaki you'll eat in your life._ But he didn't want to ruin it for his childhood friend who was clearly having his moment. "By the way, Langa, you heard the news yet?" The redhead swallowed and reached for his phone in his pocket. "I know you perform for this Yusuke Sato guy, but I couldn't stop thinking of you whenever I read something about the Matador of Love, since he's all about dancing and performing and all that too." _Adam._ There was a deep rooted part in his chest that began to ache, to long when he heard his name. Memories of last night he had been trying to veil, instead returned. "A-ah, right." Langa muttered, too scared to give himself away if he said more. 

_Adam, that name..._

_...remember that only you shall call me that, my Eve._

_It is a secret between you and me._

"Yeah, they finally launched a manhunt. They increased the bounty too." Reki scrolled past a few articles. "Woah, imagine we'd be the ones to find him! You sure deserve a proper vacation somewhere and uh, I wouldn't mind one either!" While Reki daydreamed of quiet days on Hawaii Beach, Langa's face grew pale. The fear sat on him like a soft pillow over ears and nose, his palms were sweaty as he balled them into fists. _Scared._ Not because he was dancing with a criminal, but because he didn't want the dance to end. There was a police department right across the street. So easily, could he walk over there and tell them everything. So easily, could he give Adam away and break faith with the devil. _But he couldn't._

_You want me_

_to kiss you._

"Hey, earth to Langa!" Reki nudged the boy's shoulder and pulled him out of his thoughts. "Mn...hm?" He rubbed his shoulder, looking down at the redhead whose grin surpassed the afternoon sun's glow. "You thinking of that vacation too, huh? Who knows, maybe we'll actually catch him. I know it's all wishful thinking, but if we could just gather enough information on that Matador, y'know? It must be pretty difficult to find the time for that since you've got rehearsal every night, but I can take care of that. No worries, we still share the bounty!"

* * *

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-xLk6Mj1xE4

A young man in navy suit just left RBC's Broadcasting Corporation surrounded by a crowd of both women and men, most likely reporters, some admirers and supporters. With him walked a couple of other politicians in clothing just as perfectly arranged as his. A pair of rugged men dressed in black are having a tough time trying to keep the crowd away. "Please, give the young man a break." An older politician laughed. "You see, Shindo-san. This is the prize one must pay for being a young man in politics as handsome as you. But truly, you deserve the support of all of Okinawa's citizens more than anyone." Shindo wore the exact same smile as he had done on television earlier, as if it were some kind of weapon, his camouflage to whatever hid underneath the expression. Langa stopped to watch the people gather around the men from a distance, Reki soon noticing he'd been walking alone and turning around to return. _So familiar._ The dancer thought to himself. The overwhelming image of being surrounded by so many people all at once, the smile which served merely as a facade, despite being exhausted after a long day.

The bodyguards managed to move the brash crowd at last. The wind died, leaves ceasing to rustle and even the rumble of traffic that constantly made Langa so anxious when strolling the city centre was absent. He didn't move, his head wouldn't turn away. _It's disrespectful. Stop looking, stop looking._ His eyes rest, slowed on the politician. Until the man turned his sharp gaze and Langa had to practically beg internally for his body to just listen. But it didn't, their eyes locked. They were as if in a photograph - static. And in that extended moment, red rubies and blue apatites became one, once more. _Just like in the dream._ Soon, it wasn't just Langa who refused to take his eyes off anymore. The red reminded him of the roses on his suite table, the scarlet eyes as powerful as the way Adam moved them along the dance floor. The Matador had invaded his mind. And were it not for his self control, the burning thought of him could have made him run up towards a complete stranger. The world of politics would think him insane. _Coincidence. It had to be. Was he truly looking at him? Or, just some building he happened to stand directly in front of?_

>   
>  You and I  
>  against a rule,  
>  set for us by time. 
> 
> A marker drawn  
>  to show our end  
>  etched into its line. 
> 
> The briefest moment  
>  shared with you -  
>  the longest  
>  on my mind. 
> 
> _Lang Leav_  
> 

* * *

Stars were embedded in the black night, in every direction you look you would spot billions. They outshined even the city lights of Okinawa, Langa thought so at least. As always, his bag drooped from his shoulder, though it was a little heavier this time. Langa tilts his head up, gazing at the sky. Lately Reki had been begging to let him escort him to one of his rehearsals. He'd be so happy to watch him dance, he'd say. _It is strictly prohibited to take someone who isn't part of the group._ That was his excuse and thankfully, Reki wouldn't question him any further than that. _If I can't come and watch, let me at least do something. Anything, really._ So ever since last Tuesday, the redhead has been preparing small lunch boxes for his friend. Langa usually went with an empty stomach, so Reki has been so much more of a help than he would realize. He has been spending less of his savings on 11pm takeout for sure. 

As he stood in front of the theatre like many times before, something was different today. This was the 11th time now. Langa exhaled softly, the words of his dream had become background noises that constantly followed him around. How could he treat today the same as the 10 times before it? After his body had openly admitted its attraction to the man. If he simply laid his hand on his waist like he usually did, what if Langa shivered? And what if Adam knew? Would he abandon him? 

On the stage, the notes filled the air, as effortlessly as they had done the 10 times before. But today, Langa removed a red satin cloth from his bag, and tied it around his head himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains adult content! Maybe I should've put this at the beginning.  
> Ah, well, anyway- Thank you for reading and supporting EDEN!!  
> (Does that actually rhyme? Indirectly? Kind of?) 
> 
> EDEN supremacy <3


	3. Love me, that's all I ask of you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He will hide,  
> all you want to see  
> of his sweet, sweet soul.  
> As if he merely breathes and lives,  
> at a masquerade ball. 
> 
> But he has come to love him,  
> for who he is beneath the mask.  
> And somewhere in the night,  
> he'll be his escape,  
> watch his soul. 
> 
> For even with a mask,  
> his eyes give him away.  
> Always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> adult content ahead! Trigger warning: short mention of abuse!

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

###  Ainosuke's POV 

#### https://spoti.fi/2NvJURJ is playing (Morpho, by Ali Toygar) 

#### 

######  Shindo manor, 13 years ago 

Newly chilled air moves the clouds, streaks of brilliance breaking through from a patient sun who had been waiting for her time to shine to arrive. The autumn breeze has a way of moving my hair, of tousling it into messy curls. The worksheets I was meant to be studying I had neatly placed underneath my pencil case so that they wouldn't be brushed away by the wind as I opened the window. 

It had to be open, always when he was gone, so that I could hear the car's engine roaring as soon as he'd come back home. The record player wasn't nearly as loud as I wanted it to be. I wanted so badly to dream myself away from here as I moved through my room in small, rhythmic steps. But I couldn't convince my mind that I was standing on the big stage just like all of those professional dancers were, performing in front of a huge audience. The tiny, tympatic heart in my chest drummed loudly as if it wanted to partake in this execution of the choreography I had thought of myself a few days ago, as well. The papers had long been forgotten, replaced by the priority of practicing and memorizing these steps instead. The first time I would lay eyes on them again, would only be once the sound of a car approaching in the distance would reach my ears. 

_I am having a meeting with a potential future business partner today._ I remember him saying that, and I knew the meaning behind it too. _They might be a future ally to you also, once you go into politics, just like your father is right now._ But I decide to ignore it. I didn't want any of it. I wasn't interested. Ever since I had first seen _him_ dance, my heart had been anywhere but here. It's as if he has taken it with him the moment he left the stage. 

The mansion was all concrete and tall glass windows that gave a view over the land. It stands here as if the surrounding nature had embraced it, as if the architect had loved the trees so much it was the large mansion that had been built around the big garden instead of the other way around. Our garden is a fascination in itself. What was green only a week ago, had quickly become a garland of the most vibrant blooms. They are colors anyone would want to weave dreams from, dreams that _he_ slowly started to appear in. I don't get to go there as much as I used to, but when I do I stay for hours, preferably surrounded by the red roses it offers. The second time my father took me to one of _his_ performances, one in Ireland, I had so often considered taking a bouquet made of the red roses, but I would shy away on the morning of our flight, for what would my father say?

By the third time I saw _him_ dance, in California, two years had passed. I began to feel more confident about approaching him after the show's curtain call, because I believed our conversation wouldn't end so uncouthly as it might have years ago. My English had improved, and I imagine he must have travelled almost as much as I have by that time, though for different occasions. We could have exchanged our knowledge. I could have told him, so proudly, of the melodies I had composed secretly, and that I've been practicing to become as good as him. The older I got, the more often my father took me on business trips, unfortunately I didn't get to experience much of the culture. The trips were short, tedious. But I endured, not wanting to upset my father who had hired the best teacher's to educate me, as well as the most capable servants to tend to me. Came curtain call in California, the audience cheered, enraptured by _his_ performance. I could tell he had gained more admirers, because the applause was almost deafening at this point. I have to approach him, else he will soon become unreachable. I grasped the side of my seat and revised my words to him over and over again in my head. 

_You were amazing. I have only seen you a third time today, you probably can't recall my face, but you inspire me so much. Because of you, I have found my passion for dancing._

However, I could feel my father's hand placed firmly on my shoulder, urging me to turn his way. He was eager to introduce me to a man who had approached him. _Another politician._ I was so tired of it, so just before the curtain fell, all I could do was to throw one last glance at him as he bowed to the audience. He had grown so much, we both had. I hoped so much that he would notice me, even just by accident have his gaze directed towards where we were standing. If only eyes had a voice like the lips do, mine would call out to him. Even at the risk of making a fool out of myself in front of my father and his collaborator friend. To this day I still regret that I never did. Because had I at least gotten a single look from you that night, perhaps I then would only have missed you half as deeply, half as unfathomably, half as senselessly. You were addictive in my eyes, like the smoke of an evening cigarette is to me nowadays, but no. Beyond that even. And I never questioned why.

In that welcome amber glow, the time of slower thoughts had arrived. My brain becomes as a perfect empty horizon when after several hours my father still hadn't returned from the meeting. The papers lay untouched on my desk still while I become absorbed in the music. I begun daydreaming of dancing together with _him_ instead of alone. He became an everlasting thought as even the slightest hint of interest in pursuing my father's goal for me to score in politics, vanished. I solely did it for the sake of my family's reputation, because I was _expected_ to, because I wasn't used to being the disappointment of a flawlessly polished family. But that day I dove into my veiled fantasies far too deep. I shut out all sounds and voices that didn't derive from my own mind until it was the thud of my door that shook me awake instead, then came my father's violent shouting that assured I would stay there, in the real world. The memory of what happened next still floods my mind like water rushing into a sinking ship. The sound of breaking glass. His hands tightening around the back of my head as he grabbed me. The sound of my crying. The day he took my music away from me, the day of an argument that started with words but wasn't settled by words. From that day on, every facet of my personality was as hollow as a vessel. I focused on politics just like my father wanted me to. I learned how to put on that forgery smile adults in the business industry wanted to see. It still comes in useful today.

After having been perfectionated and conditioned to my father's will for three years, I saw you again. The rain had just lost the ambient temperature of early fall. It froze and paled my skin on contact while I was walking down the street during a business trip abroad on my own. Smoke twirled skyward from my lips as if the wisps were dance partners. An advertising poster caught my attention along the way. It might have been the familiar, light blue color of you hair standing out in the corner of my eye as I was about to walk past. But my feet refused to carry me any further the moment I saw you on it. _October 21st_ it read. Something inside of me, suppressed for a very long time, told me that I needed to go. My heart hadn't beaten this fast in years. To not go and see you, it was out of question, the moment I caught sight of the advertisement.

Time has had its own flow over the years, and in that it had its own beauty. On October 21st I was one of your spectators when you performed to "II Vicolo" in China. Time had its own beauty because it had made you such a handsome, young man. I had never seen a person more devoted to the art of dancing. You moved as if you knew just how divine you were. When I watch you dance, I can no longer feel the life that continues beyond the walls of the theatre. And I realized at last how relieved I was that my father had stopped visiting your performances with me. You should only be seen by people that _can see_. After that, I couldn't get you out of my mind, again. But, who knows if I ever have? I rested in my seat, unmoving as my eyes wandered down your body on their own. I was intoxicated from the way you stretched your fingers, to the way you bend your legs that night. Amazement never quite covers it, the way I felt. I stared at you in awe, wondering how someone so fragile and small could achieve this level of talent. You moved with feeling on that stage, pouring forth an outburst of emotions through every movement. You wouldn't just move your body, but move the crowd that watched in pure astonishment. 

The music which followed "Vicollo" however seemed dismal, your movements somber. Your eyes were filled with heartbreak. And then, our eyes met at last. For years, I had craved for you to look at me just once. The spotlights reflected through the tears you were holding back. But I felt your feelings, without you even saying a word to me. I couldn't grasp what could have made you so miserable, but that was the feeling that flowed through you that night. And somehow, I felt we were the same. 

_How could I have been so foolish and give up this passion that made my heart burst like nothing else? The one spark of joy that kept me sane in a world dominated by your family's worth and the money you carried in your pockets? A world I yearned to escape? How could I give up what was my only chance of getting closer to you?_

My hand rises to my face for a moment as I stare at my true self in the mirror, leaving a mask of ornate red, white and gold over my eyes. Even if it had to be in secrecy, let me dance, let me compose, let me _live_.

**· • —– Okinawa National Theatre, present —– • ·**

Shadows of dark and light were all that Langa could detect as he fastened the cloth over his eyes. He remembered Reki telling him of how scared he was of the dark a few days ago. But, the noble black night produced by the blindfold had a way of bringing comfort to his senses. It was as if for the very first time he could feel his edges, his own skin. Subconsciously, Langa had been so focused on the audience's praise for the past years, that he had completely forgotten to look for improvement. For the first time in what felt like in 10 years or so, he was able to transport his body into the comforts of his own bedroom back in Canada. The seats in front of him were empty, they'd be empty even _if_ the black fabric wouldn't steal away his ability to see for himself. He could be entirely himself with the Matador. 

When he felt a strong form press up against him from behind, Langa didn't flinch anymore. Instead, he leaned into the touch, the invisible strings had long been cut off now. These past 10 days, he felt like he had improved more than he had in an entire year. Since he practiced not every two days like he schedule had suggested, but every day instead, the two of them had mastered almost every part of the performance. "Don't wear it," Adam whispered next to his ear. When he speaks, his deep voice is magnetic to the core, as if he were able to resonate with all of him when others could barely achieve a fraction of it. The silvery melody of the drawl of his voice, a soft accent drifted through Langa's ears. He said that in perfect English, but sometimes you still heard his Japanese background peek through. He found that cute. You would find The Matador speak to him in English a lot recently, despite him being well aware Langa grew up speaking both Japanese and English. It was, as if the man knew he did feel slightly more comfortable speaking English after all - which was true. 

"The blindfold?" Langa asked, responding in English as well. He kept it simple when he did, but Adam was capable of keeping up perfectly fine. _What kind of education did he receive? Or, did he have English-speaking relatives?_ "Let me help you. If I may?" Adam fumbled at the knot, but always making sure he didn't accidentally pull at the icy blue strands covering it. They sat knee-deep in silence. Langa could feel the anxiety in his chest waiting to take over, sitting there like an angry ball propelling him towards something that resembled stage fright. He let out a slow, controlled breath and rolled his shoulders forward, attempting to loosen his body movements. His heart beat loudly against his chest, unconscious to the abundance of his feelings that slowly drove him crazy as the blindfold fell. "Would you rather stay turned away from me, Langa-kun?" _Does it scare you? The feeling of acknowledging that I truly do exist?_ "No." Langa replied sharply. His palms were sweaty and the adrenaline coursing through his system was shutting down his ability to think logically at all. But he didn't want to run. "I want to see you."

Oh how bewildered he looked, so doubtful and quizzical when the man in front of him looked so much alike the one in his dream. Langa felt, that he was only beginning to know him and already he was overwhelmed by all he knew. The mask on his face made it difficult to see his eyes, but somehow he hoped, they were the beautiful crimson he remembered. "Would you like for us to start our time with something slower tonight?" Adam walked up towards the record player. "Dijon, by Antoine Stavelot perhaps? Or, ah, l'amore e la libertà. One of my personal favorites." A smile blossomed upon his lips as he put on the music record. Although you couldn't see them, Langa knew his eyes must be sparkling too while he watched him curiously, quietly. "I don't slow dance a lot." He admitted, his heart a racing tornado at the thought of it. He had, maybe once with his mother on his aunt's wedding. "There must be a first to everything, don't you think?" Adam chuckled as he approached him, extending his hand for the Canadian to take. "Come, now. I can only imagine you'll be as exquisite as always nevertheless." 

Langa placed his hand in Adam's, positioning as the woman's part like he had grown so used to it by now. Adam was much taller, so it might have looked odd the other way around. 

The way they moved together over the stage, using all of the space offered to them, and with the music combined, it spoke in the language that is so foundational to the world of words. "You dance a lot." Langa could tell by the way Adam was so poised as he led the dance, making it easy for him to follow despite never having danced to the melody before. They sway like water transformed by music, flowing in graceful arcs, limbs in constant motion, always pressed up close against one another. It painted a picture sound alone could never achieve. "No, my Eve, I don't dance hardly as much as I would like to. If that were the case, however, I doubt I could ever stop dancing." Adam hummed softly. Langa by now was so used to being close to Adam whenever they practiced together. At first, Adam would have to correct him, adjust his body posture and guide him closer. But Langa did it of his own accord now. "Is it your profession. Dancing?" He asked. It was impossible to hide that it was with the objective of getting to know the man more. He was happy to devour any smallest piece of information he could get. "Unfortunately it isn't." He replied, gently twirling the smaller body. 

_Those blue apatites, they finally looked at him for longer than a single heartbeat would last._

Suddenly, Langa felt more weight against him, instictively reaching out to wrap his arm around Adam. The eyes beneath his mask widened. He certainly hadn't expected to misstep. There was silence for a split second, quickly replaced by a noise that suddenly burst forth like a cross between a child's giggle and a clumsy laugh. Adam's laugh was like ripples in a still pond after a stone had been thrown in. It radiated outwards through the theatre. His giggle softened the room, as if the gentle sound could make the spotlights more golden, make the fires burn warmer. Langa, who had up until then been silent, now too began to titter and soon both their ripples of laughter brought life to their abandoned stage.

The violins sweetened the melody of the song played after. Langa wanted to feel those vibrations, swim in that sound, get carried away by its emotional swirls and eddies. But he couldn't take his eyes off Adam's face, which gazed back down at him with pure admiration as if they had caught each other staring, but decided not to speak up, instead doing the same. In those nights that belonged solely to the two of them, they were rarely filled with such a silence as there was now. "There is a kiss scene, in the play." Langa, though uncommonly, spoke up first. "I am surprised you only mention it now," Adam cooed softly. "Adam and Eve share the forbidden fruit, yes. Then after, I did add such a scene. But, my Eve, you must know I could never pressure you into such a scene." He paused. "It can be left out and not a soul will notice." Langa lowered his gaze in thought, as if whatever it was he wanted to say, took a great amount of effort and confidence to spell out. "We don't have to." Memories of vivid hue came dancing in, reminding him of the many things he had agreed to for the sake of art. Adam was at a loss of words, even slowing their dance as he realised what had been said. "You would kiss me, Langa?" He wanted to quell the hammering in his chest, but there was no way that would happen now, so, he nodded. "I would." 

Those blue eyes were ocean-strong, swimming with warm sun-lit currents that came with the golden lights that lit the stage. All previous thoughts stopped in their tracks and there it was again, this _longing._ "Would that be a scene you would want to practice, my dear Eve?" There was a tension in the air that made the air around them feel stuffy. "We can practice it." Langa tried to sound indifferent, but his internal space was anything but that.

"Then, close your eyes." Adam's voice had the lilt he knew so well now, his arm wrapped around Langa's hips, pulling him right against him. He tilts his face upward as his gloved fingers rest on his chin. It is the feel of his lips that sends Langa's mind into a sensual state of intoxication the moment they press against his. _His very first kiss._ Adam's hand moved to cup the back of his head instead, tilting it softly to the side. The adrenaline floods his system like it were an intravenous drip that spread through his body rapidly - his heart will explode. He begins to slowly stumble backwards against the wooden wall of the stage as Adam takes little steps forward, pressing Langa against it with his own weight and leaning down so it would balance out their height difference. "Mn," a gentle sound escaped the Matador's lips as Langa's hands reached out to hold his face. As soon as his fingertips could feel the corner of his mask, he took a hold of it and abruptly, 

>   
>  I do believe in love,  
>  very strongly actually. 
> 
> But the fear haunts me,  
>  that love,  
>  this beautiful, precious thing,  
>  does not believe, in me.  
> 

_pulled it off._

Every muscle in the dancer's body, as sturdy as his instructors often complimented them to be, lost its strength. The mask fell to the ground as he stared with wide, disbelieving blue orbs at the face revealed to him. A large hand had quickly reached up in desperate attempt to cover as much of it as it could, but it failed to hide the red eyes that shine so brightly, as if they were the sun painted crimson. Langa's mind was sent reeling, unable to comprehend, to process the image it was sent. "There was once a boy," Adam whispered, his eyes drifting anywhere but to meet Langa's, as if he was afraid the boy would run the moment they did. "Who loved dancing very much." They flickered in the warm light, like a warm, tame fireplace. They, and the emotions hiding behind them, weren't menacing at all as he stared off calmly into the distance. "But to pursue his dream, it meant to go up against the big, frightening world that forbid him to do so." 

It took time for Langa's brain to find the words to adequately express what he was feeling. He took a step forward and slowly let his fingers trace the pale skin below Adam's eyes, rendered so beautiful by the deep, scarlet hues. Surprised and startled at first, he let him. "I don't care about who you are." The unmasked phantom's speech silenced itself in reverence to his words. "I like dancing with you. It won't ever change." In the Matador's vulnerable state, he knew that expressing his feelings for once was the best he could do. "And, I want to dance with you more." Langa tilted Adam's head his way, assuring there was no escape for their eyes to lock. "I won't tell anyone." Adam was frozen for maybe five whole seconds before the corners of his mouth resumed their softness, and it showed now, in his eyes too. "Langa-kun. Perhaps, you truly are my Eve." - "I am." The boy corrected him before their lips met again, speaking of a mutual craving, without the need for words at all.

###  At the hotel, two days later 

### 

The sun bloomed on the horizon early that morning, golden petals stretching ever outwards into the rich blue above Okinawa. Langa opened his heavy eyelids. He had been awake for about 30 minutes already, but decided to let his mind drift off once more. The memories of two days ago didn't make him appear any less dreamy than he already had all his life. His heart raced at every opportunity taken by his mind to remember the touch of Adam's lips against his. It was ridiculous how much he felt like those high school girls with a crush, who he always failed to understand back then. The buzzer of the phone next to him went off like an annoyed rattlesnake. Usually he would leave it on the night table, but yesterday had been the second time he had managed to fall asleep while Adam was on the phone with him. It was embarrassing, but Adam would always tell him that he didn't mind it at all. _Adam found it adorable, but refrained from using that word. Langa hates how he doesn't know how to respond to it._

He scooped up his device and opened the messenger app.

>   
>  (3) New messages: 
> 
> (1 new message) Contact name: Reki  
>  "Langa, good morning! What you up to today!? There is this super cool ice cream place right down the street. I heard they're really popular, wanna check it out? චᆽච"
> 
> (1 new message) Contact name: Mom  
>  "Sweetheart, good morning! Your father and I are visiting Shuri Castle today. It's going to be warm today, make sure not to wear too many layers. Love you, mom."  
> 

Automatically, his eyes went to the one reading _"ADAM"_ first. He had figured it was safest to use that contact name. People didn't call The Matador of Love "ADAM", and it didn't give Ainosuke away either.

>   
>  (1 new message) Contact name: ADAM  
>  "My darling Eve, good morning ♡ Have you slept well? Would you like to meet today, or are you busy? I had an early meeting today. You wouldn't leave my mind. Let me see you." ♥  
> 

Adam wasn't as intimidating as everyone assumed him to be, but the people couldn't _see_ , as blinded and influenced by the media as they were. It upset Langa, but there was nothing he could do that doesn't risk their secret to be uncovered. Sometimes, he would go to bed with doubts. Would he want to play this game forever? Won't it hurt the phantom in the long run, to live a life as two men completely separated from another? _He didn't want Adam to hurt anymore._ And it pained him even more knowing, as happy as he was being The Matador, Adam suffered while playing the role of a young politician.

Langa hit the reply-button with his thumb, _Good morning. Okay. Where?_ , and sent it off.

He leaned back against the wall, sighing as he tried to tame his beating heart. They had kissed before, danced together, but Langa soon reached the logical conclusion, that Adam most likely wouldn't meet up with him in bright daylight, wearing his Matador mask. No. He would most likely wear a slim fit business suit, his hair combed and styled back. He would probably look the way he presented himself in his interviews on TV, just like the time he saw him on the streets, surrounded by politicians and reporters. _Shindo Ainosuke was extremely handsome. And he would treat him the way lovers treat each other._

It was nerve-racking.

**· • —– Yachimun Street, an hour later —– • ·**

Langa stopped at the edge of the road, people passing him from behind. Once more the breaths are quite invisible, the birds are more active in the sky. Clouds still lingered but today, it wasn't a dense layer of grey but a chaotic array of white puffy shapes instead. Others might describe it as a "decent" summer day, but despite traveling often, Langa was so used to the climate in Canada. In the northern part of his home, summer would maybe last longest two months. So he appreciated every sunny day away from home.

The traffic snaked up the hill, two lines of steel and tire. Soon, a car pulled up next to him causing Langa to take a step back. The black Executive Sedan sits as if it were formed from flowing, black metal. The driver didn't give him as much as a look as he tried to assign the face a familiar identity through the dark windows. But Langa hadn't seen that man before. His attention was quickly drawn to the backdoor on his side the moment it opened with a soft _click_ sound. A pair of red rubies met his gaze and he was immediately calmed, as if by magic. "Take a seat." Adam cooed gently before shifting into the backseat on the other end, watching the boy as he entered, closing the door shut. _Was he supposed to take the seat on the far right or, sit in the middle so he'd be closer to Adam?_ Langa chose the middle seat, seeing Shindo's arm resting right behind it. "Tadashi, we're going back home." He instructed the driver, the dominant tone in his voice so different from the one Langa was used to hearing. He watched the taller man quietly from the corner of his eye, observing him as if he first needed to take in this appearance before he'd be fully able to relax - he did. Ainosuke gave him the time to, like he understood just how overwhelmed the dancer must be this very moment. 

A few minutes later, Ainosuke spoke up. "You have to understand I can't take you to one of the public coffee shops, as much as I would like to. You deserve the utmost loving treatment, my Eve. It pains me I can't give you everything, not while the media is so focused on me." Carefully, attentively, his arm came to rest closer against Langa's back, bare fingertips touching his shoulder softly. "Don't worry about him. He knows." Ainosuke whispered. He seemed perfectly relaxed in his driver's presence. "He doesn't care either." Came a little sourly. "How many do know?" Langa asked with curiosity. "No one else does." 

They were outside the big city about 15 minutes after. Langa's head rested against Ainosuke's broad shoulder, simply enjoying each other's company. It was the rustling that caused Langa to look up, seeing that he had pulled out a set of cigarettes from his pockets. However, before he touched them, Ainosuke's fingers ran carefully through blue strands to get the boy's attention, unaware he has had it the whole time. "Do you mind the smell of cigarettes, Langa-kun?" No change in appearance would also change the way he cared so deeply for Langa's feelings. He shook his head. "I don't mind." Langa didn't know how long they had been driving for, but he couldn't care less as long as he got to be in Adam's company. When Ainosuke lowered the car window before lighting the tobacco, Langa's eyebrows rose in admiration of the view. 

A chorus of greens dance in a celebratory wind. The grass was taller than he had ever seen it before, almost meadow-like but still such a magnificent green. Ainosuke noticed this and smiled warmly, making sure his body wouldn't cover the sight. "Come closer," he beckoned. "You'll have a better view from here, darling." Langa's cheeks infused a deep shade of pink, Ainosuke's arm had already wrapped around his waist as he slowly leaned closer. "If we were to continue this road to the left, we would get to Cape Chinen Park in Nanjō." Making sure the smoke of his cigarette wouldn't get close to Langa's face, the man pointed out. "Cape Chinen is surrounded by the sea. It overlooks the Pacific Ocean. It's the kind of panoramic ocean view you could never forget." In the sunlight that paints his skin so warmly, the dancer stared off into the distance. "It's beautiful." He whispered, never before having wished to be as spontaneous as right then. "I have only ever visited once, when I was still little, with my father. Let me take you one day, SNOW." Langa's heart filled with all sorts of emotions, by the way Ainosuke prolonged every letter of his public title, with an incredible warmth. "One day." He nodded, still mesmerized.

Even with his cigarette finished, Ainosuke left the window open. "You look incredible today, Eve. The casual wear," he chuckled, "I could get used to it." Langa turned towards him, caught off-guard by the sudden compliment. He received them constantly after performing, or when people recognized him on the streets, which they quite often did in Canada. _You were stunning the other day. I can't wait to see more of you! I've never seen something as amazing as you performed tonight!_ But they were only ever referring to his profession. Ainosuke complimented _him_. The way he was, ignoring his profession. The man smirked as his hand begun running along Langa's clothed stomach, chin resting against his shoulder. Langa's heart skipped a beat when he noticed he's been halfway sitting on Ainosuke's lap this entire time. 

"I want you so badly, Langa." Ainosuke canted Langa's body towards him more, whispering those words under his breath with such a concupiscent, lustful undertone to them. Nevertheless, the words must have reached his driver's ears easily. Langa's cheeks were the color of roses as he felt Ainosuke's adept fingers slip past his white turtle neck, caressing his soft skin. His body trembled under the man's touch as if his touch was all it took to make Langa's walls go crumbling down. Ainosuke's medicine-sweet lips didn't lock with his this time, but instead they targeted his neck with a sweet wetness and a trembling fire all the same, so hard he could feel his sharp fangs press against the spot. Impatiently, Langa wriggled his body against the touch, gasping softly, and unintentionally. "Ssh..." Ainosuke hummed. "Tadashi doesn't need to hear you moan now." _He was a tease. A sadist for reminding him that they weren't alone. But somehow, that only turned him on more too._

Langa bit his lip instead, dreadfully afraid the intimate sounds would be heard by someone he'd rather not want them heard by. Ainosuke's insistent mouth kissed his neck repeatedly, pulling on the cloth around his neck for more access. It sent wild tremors down the boy's nerves as he shivered helplessly, surrendered to Ainosuke's strength that he couldn't compare to. Langa couldn't control the involuntary twitching of his hips as hungry lips tugged on his skin, gently biting down on it. He felt not only his heart swirl into all possible directions, but he felt something big, something hard press up against his ass cheeks. "Langa-kun... forgive me for being this, inappropriate." Ainosuke breathed heavily. 

Breathing heavily, they began moving in rhythmic patters, both lost in their perverted fantasies that revolved around each other. Ainosuke's hand settled on Langa's lower stomach, guiding his hips against the swollen bulge in his pants. Internally, Langa could've sworn he flinched at how big Ainosuke felt. He should be embarrassed, but he had dreamt of it before. Of being this intimate with the masked phantom. And now he knew, Ainosuke wasn't any less twisted than he was. _Somehow, this made him so happy._

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐬, 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

The car came to a stop on a big, private parking place and not a minute after, Tadashi opened the backdoor for the pair to step out. The servant straightened, his arms neatly pressed against his sides. Langa's cheeks still hadn't returned to their original, pale color. The fact that the man knew what they had been doing on the backseats kept him from looking up at him. He felt each individual, soon-to-be hickey tickling his neck, down towards his upper back and shoulders. Ainosuke had marked him thoroughly and as difficult as it was in that adrenaline haze he had found himself in, they didn't go any further than that. Ainosuke stood beside him, making him look straight up with a soft squeeze of his shoulder. Langa stared wide-eyed at the big mansion in front of them. Surrounded by bushes and trees, the sight looked as if it had been taken straight out of a perfected painting. If the manor had not been right there, so pretty in the rising land, Langa might have conjured it for a dreamscape imagination. 

For some reason, his heart still beat rapidly as they walked up the stairs. Tadashi, with a bow, had excused himself as soon as they reached the top of the stairway. Langa couldn't bring himself to do as much as to peek at Ainosuke, afraid his gaze might wander accidentally with the awareness of the man's erection that had been pressed up against him during the car ride. _I want you so badly._ It rung in his mind. _He wants him._ Want him in _that_ way? _Having sex, with ADAM..._

"Langa-kun." Ainosuke called out with a smile, stopping in front of a large door and only by when Langa looked his way, he turned the golden doorknob and opened it. "After you, my Eve." Langa stepped into the large, sunlit room. Through the huge bedroom window came the brightness of the dayshine, leading out towards a balcony. Ornate detailing at the ceiling's edges reminded him, that he really was inside a mansion right now. But despite how spacious it was, Langa's eyes fell on the antique record player in the very corner of the room. It looked old, the tone arm was broken off. "It doesn't work anymore, sadly." He heard Ainosuke approach him from behind. "I've had it for a very long time now. Then, one day I wasn't being careful and it fell." There was an unusual drop in his voice. Ainosuke sounded almost heartbroken for a moment. Gently pulling the smaller frame towards him, he planted a kiss on the side of Langa's forehead. "Once more, about earlier... I do hope you are able to forgive me, my sweet Langa. I would never want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I am ready as soon as you are too." His face softened. "Now, if you'll excuse me for just a moment, I can take care of this unwelcome inconvenience. In the meantime, you are free to take a look around. I have nothing that I would need to hide from you."

Langa's heart jackhammered against his chest. It writhed and thrashed ferociously inside of him as if to send a message to his brain. "Ainosuke." He suddenly called out as the man was about to leave the bedroom. He turned around towards Langa, visibly surprised he had used his given name. It was the very first time he called him by it. He didn't speak but waited for Langa to continue. "Let me help." He wanted to grasp his chest, to stop his heart from hammering against it like that. Ainosuke didn't say a word still, completely taken aback by the offer. "Langa-kun, my darling Eve. I... couldn't possibly expect you to do such a thing for me." - "I want to." Langa insisted, stunned by his sudden boost of confidence. He had never given anyone a blowjob before, neither a hand job. In fact, he was completely inexperienced apart of his wet dream the other night. There was only one thing he was completely, unreservedly sure of. _He really wanted to make ADAM feel good._ "You make me feel good. I want to make you feel good too. That is how... relationships work, right?"

"Yes... yes, that is how they work." Ainosuke couldn't rid himself of the shock written all over his face quite yet. It was his cheeks that were burning now as he clumsily began to unbuckle his belt. "Sit down here." Langa gestured towards the large, king sized bed in the middle of the room. It could fit a ridiculously high number of people at once, but the man didn't even consider the thought of sharing his boy. Ainosuke let his slim fit suit trousers fall to his ankles, taking them off completely before walking up towards the bed. It creaked softly as he sat down. His erection throbbed painfully inside his underwear, spreading his legs accordingly. Langa knew that erections would go down eventually, but that they often didn't on their own. He hadn't experimented much with his own body, but that much he knew. "Are you comfortable?" He asked, looking up at a bright red Ainosuke who watched him slowly get down on his knees in front of him. "One moment, my darling." Ainosuke exhaled as if he's held in the air ever since Langa had called out to him. A large, yet incredibly gentle hand reached out and tugged a blue strand behind Langa's ear. "They do get in the way. Perhaps, next time you visit I should have a hair tie at hand for you. Your hair has such a lovely length." 

_Next time. There would be a next time._

Langa nodded. He would learn in time what to keep in mind when pleasing his lover. "Thank you." He hooked his fingers into Ainosuke's underwear, pulling it down slowly. "Up," he muttered, gesturing for Ainosuke to lift up his hips so he could slide it down and off completely. Langa wasn't sure if it was comfortable at all if it just sat there underneath his length. Langa's mouth dropped open slightly at the sight of Ainosuke's big, twitching erection pointing upwards helplessly. Ainosuke was quite big, just like he had imagined earlier when he felt him thrust up against his cheek. "Please, know that I would never ask you to take all of it into your mouth, my dear Eve." Ainosuke's breath hitched in anticipation. "I know." The boy confirmed, assuring Ainosuke that he wasn't feeling pressured at all.

He leaned down and let the tip of his tongue slither across Ainosuke's tip, immediately tempting a set of soft, trembling moans from his lips. He was so sensitive. _Had anyone ever even pleased the man like this?_ He seemed to like it, so Langa repeated it once more, but this time he wrapped his lips lightly around the head of his erection, exploring every potential sweet spot bit by bit. "Mnn...Langa-kun," Ainosuke shivered, leaning back slightly and grabbing a handful of Langa's hair. _It was so warm, on his tongue._ The boy flinched softly as an intoxicated Ainosuke buried his hand in his hair like that, even tugging on it lightly. Not in a way that hurt, but in a way that was just the right amount of hurt, and, at the same time, a sign that convinced him that he wasn't doing too bad. 

Then, Langa began to move his head back and forth slowly at first, but picking up speed not long after as he felt the throbbing of Ainosuke's shaft intensify. He had provoked him all car ride already. "Haa...-Langa-kun... my Eve, to think you would offer me such a service today...mnnn...~" His chest rose heavily. Langa could feel the hand on the back of his head tighten, pushing him down towards the base of the erection more. "Mnhg!" He coughed softly, and immediately Ainosuke would ease the pressure. His hips thrusted upward while Langa sucked him off, letting his wet muscle slide past the bottom side of Adam's erection again and again. Each time it touched the back of his throat, it would cause Langa to almost gag, but he'd try to take just an inch more nevertheless. 

"L-Langa, you can... mm, love, you can pull away now..." The pressure at the base of Ainosuke's erection built up higher and higher, making it harder to control himself. Bright, blue eyes looked up at him, showing not a sign of retreat. "Are you, sure about this?" Ainosuke tensed up, starting to thrust his hips faster as Langa's lips remained tightly wrapped around his thick shaft, hands placed on his thighs. _He wanted to make him feel good, so badly._

Nothing but gasps, moans and the sound of his irregular thrusts echoed through the politician's bedroom. Their eyes didn't let go of each other's. Seconds later, Langa began to feel Ainosuke ejaculating into his mouth, his hand still keeping his head in place. The Canadian trembled at the great amount, yet he wouldn't pull away unless Ainosuke did first. His heart threatened to escape his chest at the wild thoughts chasing each other through his head. _He made Ainosuke feel good. He made Ainosuke cum. He was swallowing his load. Ainosuke showed him this vulnerable, private side. Ainosuke. Ainosuke. He likes Ainosuke._

The Matador slowly pulled out, still breathless, speechless. He was completely mesmerized by the picture he had right in front of him. His lips curved upwards, wiping remnants of his fluids off Langa's bottom lip and wiping his finger off with a tissue.

Ainosuke smiled softly, pulling the boy on top of his taller form."Langa-kun. I think that, I truly might be in love with you." Langa's eyelids fell shut as the man locked lips with his, happily welcoming a taste of his own seed. They both had never felt so at peace before.

𝐖𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬...  
...𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤?

Amid the perfume of the summer blooms and people chatting happily on the streets of Okinawa, the leaves flickered like candlelight in the evening sun. From neighboring houses came the music of laughter as everyone awaits the starlight and their silvery moon. A white piece of paper is dragged along by the soft evening breeze. It reads:

>   
>  _The Matador of Love spotted?  
>  Gender: male  
>  Hair color: azure blue  
>  Body type: tall broad built, relatively thin waist  
>  Clothing: red jacket with gold accents, red vest marked by three x-shaped golden strings, cape, red belt with a golden buckle _
> 
> _A witness has possibly spotted the Matador leaving the abandoned national theatre two days ago.  
>  The time frame, as the witness has confirmed, was between 11.00 - 11.45pm.  
>  Help us uncover the secret about Okinawa's phantom!  
>  You may have a hint that might help us on the investigation?  
>  Further information found below. _
> 
> _Okinawa Pref. Police Headquarters  
>  Police Station  
>  [Map・Detail] 1-2-2 Izumizaki, Naha-shi, Okinawa 900-0021 Phone: 098-732-010_
> 
> ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
> 
> __

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was maybe just a liittle longer than the previous ones (so please let that make up for the belated upload) 
> 
> mnnhhg my EDEN heart is so big right now, I hope you could enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! 
> 
> EDEN supremacy <3


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